


12x23

by flyy0ufools



Series: Wincest Codas [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:57:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyy0ufools/pseuds/flyy0ufools
Summary: As the pyre went up in flames, the whole thing felt unusually morbid. Not that a funeral was ever a joyous occasion for them, but this…this was different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first half of the first chapter of a new fic I'm writing, but I thought it made really good coda so I decided to cross-post it as such here and on [tumblr](https://one-soul-two-brothers.tumblr.com/post/161071794621/12x23-coda).
> 
> (Edit Aug 17, 2017: I'm still planning on writing this fic but it'll be awhile so I decided to post the other half as just a second chapter to this coda for now.)

They weren’t sure what to do with an angel’s vessel once the angel had been killed; honestly, it hadn’t really mattered before now. Or maybe they just hadn’t cared. Sam suggested they give him a hunter’s funeral, so that’s what they did. It felt like the right thing to do, that’s what Sam told himself, because there really wasn’t anything else they _could_ do.

It took them over an hour to gather enough wood to encircle the platform that was seven feet long and six feet wide; they’d had to make it bigger than usual because tonight, they had two bodies to burn.

As the pyre went up in flames, the whole thing felt unusually morbid. Not that a funeral was ever a joyous occasion for them, but this…this was different. Maybe it was the fact that it was two people up there burning; maybe it was _who_ those people were. Castiel had been their friend, and although Sam had had to forgive the angel for many _many_ transgressions over the years, Sam knew that if held grudges—no matter how deserving—he wouldn’t have any friends.

So he forgave and forgave, even when it was almost physically painful, he forgave. And yet, here he stood…and their friend was gone anyways.

Kelly laid next to Cas, and in some ways this broke Sam’s heart even more. She was never supposed to be a part of this; she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And no, she wasn’t the first (nor would she be the last), but is was more than bad luck; it was bad advice and bad decisions and bad timing on Sam and Dean’s part. She was up there because she had put her faith in Lucifer’s child, her child; she had put her faith in Castiel.

So maybe the morbidity of the situation was because an angel laid there burning next to the mother of Lucifer’s spawn.

Maybe it was because they were wrapped tightly in sheets that Dean had pulled from Kelly’s bed, the bed that she’d given birth and then died in less than two hours ago.

Maybe it was because there was someone missing that deserved to be there.

Sam bit his lip raw before leaning into Dean, speaking quietly like he was a little unsure of how his brother would react to what he was about to say.

“I wish that…that we could have given Crowley this sendoff, too.”

Dean chuckled, the sound raw and painful, the only thing he could offer in place of tears. Sam knew Dean only really cried for one reason, and since that reason was still standing warm and alive next to Dean, his green eyes would stay dry tonight.

“Stupid bastard,” Dean muttered, but his voice held no condemnation, just gratefulness and regret.

“He cared about us,” Sam whispered. He’d fought so hard against any positive feelings he had towards the king, but he realized—too late—that really, Crowley hadn’t done any worse than many of the people they’d called friends, including the one that was currently wrapped up in flames.

“Yeah, he cared,” Dean said, “and look what happened.”

“What always happens,” Sam finished, his head bowed to let his hair fall over his face and mask his tears.

“I don’t—is it us, Sam?” Dean asked desperately. “Are they dead because of us?”

Logically, Sam knew the answer was no. Any of them could have died at any point for any reason, whether they had been friends with the brothers or not. And frankly, Sam thought that some of their friends that had died over the years actually lived _longer_ because the Winchesters were in their lives. But Dean didn’t want to hear that, not right now.

“I don’t know,” Sam said instead. “Maybe, maybe not. But Dean…they chose to be here. Even if they died because they jumped in front of a bullet for us, _we weren’t the ones firing the gun_.”

They stood in silence, time ticking by uncounted, the heat of the flame too warm against their skin.

“We still gotta deal with Lucifer’s kid,” Sam said with a sigh. “Damn idiot, what was he thinking, letting it live?” Sam kept talking then, his brain-to-mouth filter suddenly gone, unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth.

“But…and I know this sounds bad, but maybe it’ll be easier to take care of this crap ourselves. Sometimes all the ‘help’ just makes everything worse.” Sam’s eyes widened in fear. “Sorry! Fuck, Dean, I didn’t mean I’m glad he’s gone, I just—”

“No, Sam, you’re right. We’ve apologized for him too many times, we’ve cleaned up his messes too many times. And I’m not saying I’m glad he’s dead. It’s just…at the end there, y’know…I think about that angel—that person—who, seven years ago, walked into that cemetery, knowing that it meant certain death, just to help me. To help _you_. And it’s like I haven’t seen that guy in-in years.

“I’m sad, really, I am. But…I don’t know if I’m sad because I’m _sad_ or sad because I’m supposed to be.”

Sam’s heart broke at the look of guilt on Dean’s face, and he couldn’t stay silent. His overwhelming and all-encompassing need to keep Dean away from the ever-present guilt and dark thoughts that plagued him immediately took control, and Sam started to speak.

“Dean, everybody changes, everybody grows up. People grow apart. Even angels and hunters. It’s just life.” Dean shrugged but didn’t argue.

“And C-Crowley…” Sam’s voice shook with his own guilt. “Everything kind of went in reverse with him.”

“Enemies to uneasy allies to person that pretended to barely tolerate us to friend that would—that _did_ —die for us?” This time it was Sam’s turn to stay silent.

Sam felt Dean’s hand wrap around his bicep; Dean’s fingers were shaking, and Sam automatically brought a hand up to blanket Dean’s. The unconscious movement felt strangely intimate, even more so than the hug they’d shared back at the bunker with their mother, but Dean didn’t mention it, and he didn’t pull away.

“Can we go home?” Dean’s voice sounded small and brittle, and the fact that he’d asked instead of told Sam made Sam turn to look at him with worry. Dean looked small, exhausted, defeated; Sam was sure he didn’t look any better.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed out. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, you caught a glimpse of Rosemary’s baby?” Dean asked. They were almost an hour into the drive and this was the first time either of them had spoken. Sam was surprised by Dean’s tone; he still didn’t sound  _happy_  per se, but the rawness and guilt was gone and there was a kind of lightness to his words.

“Ooooh yeah, I saw him. Creepy as fuck, pulled a Grindelwald and just jumped out the window.”

“What the hell is a Grindelwald?” Dean glanced at Sam, one eyebrow expertly raised. Whatever had been squeezing Sam’s chest for the last few hours lessened its grip; Dean didn’t do ‘the eyebrow’ if he was depressed.

“Uh…Harry Potter? It’s like this bad guy that used to be Dumbledore’s best friend and maybe more and he—”

“Sam!” Dean cut him off. “Whatever you are saying,” he made a vague waving gesture at his brother, “means absolutely nothing to me.”

Sam growled. “You could at least watch the movies! Then I wouldn’t have to explain every time someone makes a Harry Potter reference.”

“And you could just not use Harry Potter in your analogies in the first place,” Dean shot back.

“Dude, I’m  _hardly_  the only person we’ve come across who uses them. I mean, it kinda gives the impression that you live under a rock or something.”

“Okay, okay, can we table this discussion?”

“Only if you promise to watch them.” At Dean’s hesitation, Sam pulled his trump card. “Or I could always get the audiobooks. We can listen to them on our way to—“

“Fine! I’ll watch the damn movies. Annoying, pain in the ass little brother,” Dean grumbled, but there was no heat behind his words, and Sam hid a grin behind his hand. “Just…give it to me with less Hogwarts, k?”

“Okay,” Sam laughed lightly, the sound filling the car with warmth, like it belonged there regardless of what the night had brought them. “He looked like a…like an evil, naked Peter Pan.”

“Wait, wasn’t Peter Pan evil in the original story?”

“Um, that’s what you’re focusing on?” Dean’s silence told Sam that it was his turn to humor his brother about fairy tale nonsense. “Uh, I guess? If it’s similar to all the other stories that have been Disney-fied then yeah, he probably ate baby fingers for breakfast or something.”

“I love that your mind goes  _right there_ ,” Dean said.

“Shut up, you brought it up,” Sam muttered.

“Uh, you were the one who described him as an evil Peter Pan! Not me.”

“Well, that’s what he looked like!” Sam insisted. “He was…Dean, it was creepy. He had these yellow eyes—no, not yellow.  _Gold_. And he smiled at me, but it wasn’t sweet. It was predatory like a shark, and he looked at me like I was about to be his next meal.”

“But he didn’t attack you or anything?” Dean asked.

“I have a feeling that if he wanted to attack me, I’d be dead right now,” Sam said. Realizing he’d just put an image of him dead in his brother’s head, he plowed ahead, hoping to distract Dean before any dark emotions overwhelmed him.

“And he—man, I don’t even…he wasn’t a baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“He looked like he was twenty or something. He was grown up.”

“Well, that makes the naked part a little more awkward,” Dean said dryly. “Okay, so he looks evil and he’s Lucifer’s kid, which obviously isn’t a good thing. But what about what K-Kelly had said, and Cas? They pulled all this crap, running away from us, not letting us save her, because this kid, Jack? Yeah, Jack. Supposedly he’s the second coming of Christ or something? Or that’s what Cas saw when Kelly touched him, right?”

“Yeah, but Dean…I’ve been thinking about this. Maybe Jack just lied? Manipulated them? Kept Kelly alive because as long as he was still inside her, if she died then he died.”

“And when we figured out that we could extract his grace so that neither of them would die, and all the Satanic parts of him would be gone?”

“Well, wasn’t it right after we told Kelly about our plan that she had the vision of a peaceful world, a utopian future? So maybe he just showed her that so she wouldn’t let us remove his grace.”

“Yeah, good point. Hell, even supernatural entities that we would normally put into the ‘not evil’ column tend to get a little nasty if you try to take away their powers,” Dean pointed out.

“Exactly. I mean, the chances of us being wrong on this are really slim, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s not looking good,” Dean agreed. “But I have a suggestion.”

“Yeah?”

“How about we head back to the bunker, and until shit starts hitting the fan again, we just chill out for a little while.” Dean looked at Sam, kept his eyes on his brother longer than was probably safe considering they were barreling down the highway, the speedometer needle pushing easily past 80. But there was no one else on the road, and the silence and emptiness and the metal of Baby’s roof blanketed them like a safety net.

Sam’s lips quirked up in small smile, all the answer Dean needed.


End file.
